


R.A.G.E.

by parodySphoria



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blackrom, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Human Blackrom, Humanstuck, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Porn With Plot, boys getting friskaayyyyy, churning out fics like theyre my main source of income, dave is dave and thats really all there is to say on the matter, i had to proofread my own smut just now, karkat is from nj but i'm picturing him kind of middle-eastern, rude words, so much homo in one fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2210880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parodySphoria/pseuds/parodySphoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Originally titled "Rageclock Me In The Douchesmirk Plz" back when it was nothing more than a paragraph on my wordpad doc.</i>
</p><p>You're Dave Strider, and annoying Karkat Vantas has become a sort of obsession bordering on fetishistic.<br/>You should probably cool it a little, but addiction is a powerful thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	R.A.G.E.

If there is one thing that's true to you, it's that Karkat Vantas is the most insufferable asshole of a person you have ever met in your entire life. He's loud, obnoxious, rude to the point of deserving a punch or seven, and when he starts ranting about shit you want nothing more than to throw him off something high just to hear him fade out, for once.

But _goddamn_ does he feel good pressed up against you.

Whether he's all up in your face when you cut in front of him in the lunch queue, or when you purposefully stand on the backs of his vans on your way to class - _"Sorry Vantas didn't see you all the way down there"_ \- or when you sit next to him instead of John when the three of you have movie night at the Egbert household. You can't seem to get enough of his intoxicating, aggravating mannerisms.

So you continue your torment: you wind him up, you push him a little further each time you see him, you ruffle his thick black hair as you pass him in the corridor, compulsively straighten out the collar of his red checked overshirt each time it gets folded up in his bag strap, flick his tanned arms each time he pushes his sleeves up to do something. Each glare he shoots you, each low barely-human growl, every snarl and sneer make it all worth it.

You've made annoying him your entire life's purpose, and you're making damn sure you're all he thinks about every second of every day.

You found out a while ago it's the little things that push him - outright insulting him only earns you an agreeing nod or a bored "tell me something I _don't_ know, asshole" while fixing his collar or tucking in the tags on his shirts like some kind of obsessive maternal figure brings out those little growls. What really gets him, though, is when you quietly correct him in the middle of one of his rants.

A particularly good one was when he was talking to John and Sollux in the lunchroom about his part-time job (at the coffee shop in the back of your local bookstore. You know, you've been in there with your bullshit order more times than you care to admit) and he said "I told him he had another thing coming!"

You'd perked up, having only just been corrected on that statement three days prior by your know-it-all brother. You couldn't stop yourself.

"It's _think_." You'd said quietly, not even looking up as you'd continued eating like you'd said nothing. Everyone at the table had turned to look at you, the anger in Karkat's eyes almost broke your stoic expression.

He'd practically hissed out his reply; a simple, challenging "What?"

You'd looked up, raising your eyebrows and putting down your juice, "It's another _think_ coming. Y'know, like, _think again_. How people used to say it. Common mistake though man, don't beat yourself up about it."

You were half hoping he'd fly at you in a fit of rage and clock you round the face, but he'd just sat there staring at you wide-eyed, face growing red with anger. The tirade he'd released on you after school that day - _"how fucking DARE you correct me while I'm trying to talk to people, who do you think you are?"_ was one for the books, for sure.

But you know who you are. You're Dave Strider, and annoying Karkat Vantas has become a sort of obsession bordering on fetishistic.

You realise now that while you were trying to make it so _you're_ all _he_ thinks about, you realised what you've achieved in the long run is that _he's_ all _you_ think about. Day in, day out. You wake up thinking of new ways to wind him up, you go to bed thinking of all the ways you pissed him off that day. It's become your obsession, your addiction.

You should probably cool it a little, but addiction is a powerful thing.

It's only when you're sat two rows behind him in last-lesson English class one Friday - watching a film about god knows what, is this Shakespeare? - taking the absense of the guy who sits in front of you as an opportunity to throw rolled up bits of paper at the back of Karkat's neck that you realise he's not responding to your games as visciously as he once did. He's not even turning around like he usually does. He's just sat there taking notes, or probably drawing who cares, with one hand in his hair propping his head up, tilted to the side. You're taking note of how his head is laying because you're trying to get down his shirt. Trying to get the _bits of paper_ down his shirt. Yeah.

You stop throwing. No point if he's not gonna get all wound up about it. You turn your attention to the screen instead - it is Shakespeare. You actually like this play quite a bit, but the movie adaptation cut out like half the fucking plot and you've been sat here wondering what the hell they've done with the bloody, gory Titus you read the play of last year. You tuned it out to throw shit at Karkat but now you have no choice but to watch this drivel for the next ten minutes until you can go home.

The time passes by even slower than usual, and you focus your attention back to Karkat. Maybe if you lean a little you'll be able to see what the hell he's doing on that paper? You try, to no avail. You won't lean any further sideways for fear of falling off your chair. He stops doing whatever he's doing in his notepad to turn around and look at you. You're leant on one of your arms near the edge of your desk, so you lift your head, opening your hand to give him a small wave. He looks confused, waving back halfheartedly with the hand dropping over the edge of his desk before going back to his notepad.

You grin to yourself, immediately going back to throwing paper at the back of his neck and revelling in silent glee when he turns around to glare at you like he just caught you about to set him alight.

As you're walking out of class that afternoon, you see him about to turn the corner and can't resist the urge to antagonise him further. You jog through the crowd to catch up with him just as he leaves the main doors.

"Alright Kitkat?" You drawl, slumping your arm across his shoulders to both jolt him as he walks and to accentuate the amount of height you've got on him.

He doesn't even look up to retort, "I was fine, and then you were born."

"That hurt me deeply, Karkat." You slow down, dragging him behind with you and leaning further on his shoulders, "Or it would have done if I wasn't born before you."

"Well then I have spent none of my waking life being fine, suffering in the knowledge that somewhere out there was a douchebag in women's eyewear who was destined to make my life a living hell throughout my entire scholastic career. Thankyou for that, you dick."

God, you love it when he starts up on a rant. You try and push him further.

"Destined? Like soulmates? Didn't realise you felt that way about me."

He takes a deep breath, you grin as you walk with him, "The only way I feel about you is disgusted. You're a wretched, vile human being and even being this near you makes my skin crawl and my eyes want to bleed with distress. A thousand dying gods could not fathom how much I want to punch you in the gut and your small, underdeveloped brain could barely handle the amount of pure, unadulterated hatred I am holding back every time I speak to you."

You swap your grin out for a smirk when he turns to shoot his finishing glare at you, "I love you too, man. Where you off to this fine evening?"

"Not that it's any of your fucking business but I'm going to work."

You force out a pained sigh and increase the weight you're putting on his shoulders, "Aw man you're not walking past my house today!"

"Yeah what a fucking tragedy, you'll have to walk home alone for once in your sad, lonely life."

You pass the turning towards your houses and pause for a moment, letting him think you're turning down the road and giving yourself three points when he turns to see where you went. You let him get a little ahead and turn back around before jogging after him again and dropping the full weight of your arm - plus a little extra for free - back over his shoulders.

"On _second_ thoughts..." You drag out, letting him groan in annoyance before continuing, "I could probably use some coffee."

"Don't you fucking dare."

You grin at him, "Don't you worry man, I'm not leaving you alone for a single second tonight. No need to be bored alone at work, after all."

The walk to the bookstore/coffee shop/abomination to god is slow and painful, much to your joy and Karkat's dismay. You talk non-stop about shit you know he finds annoying, and he interjects with how little he cares and how stupid all the names are for the bits of tech you work with. He listens to everything though, for the same reason you listen to everything _he_ says - to find a weakness, beat down on it completely, and try and switch the subject back over to what he likes to talk about. It's verbal fighting, it's primal wordwars, it's borderline abusive. You love it.

When he goes through the back entrance - you make the joke, he doesn't laugh - to get to the staffroom, you go and sit in the bookstore. You waste a full half an hour browsing the anime books for something your brother _doesn't_ own before you decide it's time to pay your favourite ornery barista a visit.

He's expecting you, and that's what starts you off. Karkat's leant against the counter watching you approach in that stupid browny-red apron of his. the guy's about to recite your fake order at you and then immediately tell you they don't do it and ask you to shove the complimentary stirring sticks up your ass - you can see it in his eyes, he's practically glowing with pride at his preparation. He's almost opened his mouth when you cut in.

"Caramel latte please." You say, watching his face go through shock, confusion, anger and then back to confusion in the space of a few seconds.

"What... Seriously?" He asks, and bless him he actually seems a little let down, "That's it?"

"Yeah man what did I stutter?" You ask, feigning annoyance.

"No... Uh. One sec then."

As he turns around to make your drink you smile, draping yourself across the counter and watching him through your shades. You know he can't see where you're looking, but you still keep your eyes above his waist, not wanting to let your already confused feelings towards the guy go any further than absolutely necessary. He hands you your cup and goes to move back to the chair he was sat on behind the counter.

"Yo, how much?" You ask, tapping your wallet on the table.

"It's on me, now fuck off and go back to reading."

You pause, holding eye contact with him for as long as he dares to stare at the black teardrops of your shades. He never does this. You always pay for your coffee here - hell you usually leave him a fair tip and then never talk about it again. Why's he doing this? Why now?

"You feeling alright Karkat?"

"I said fuck off before I obliterate your brainstem with the coffee filter and feed you your own cerebral cortex."

You raise your hands in defeat, opening the one not holding your coffee as you go to sit down in the non-fiction aisle. If you lean back in the chairs here you can just about see Karkat around the bookshelves. You drink your coffee, read a couple chapters of some book called The Psychopath Test (you pretend you're not taking note of what it looks like so you can continue reading it next time you're here) and by the time you get up to bother to throw your long-empty coffee cup away you can hear Karkat saying goodbye to his manager.

You throw your jacket back on and hitch your bag up over your shoulder as you walk out of the coffeebookstorewhateverthefucktheywanttocallit and into the fresh night air, waiting out front for Karkat.

He takes a while - he always does, every time you decide to wait out here for him. You lean against the wall, watching your breath ascend into the night sky. Karkat's shift was only four hours, making it half seven now, but it feels so much later than that. The stars are obscured by the darkness of your sunglasses, but you don't take them off. You know Karkat gets annoyed when you wear them at night, even if he's stopped saying it.

Surely enough, when he walks around the side of the building - looking around for you, you note - he heaves a long-suffering sigh at your shades before starting the walk back to his house. You walk beside him silently, making sure to bump into him for no reason at every chance you get.

"Would you mind walking on your own side of the path and less in my personal space, you absolute horse's dick?"

"Would you mind not talking about horse dicks while I'm trying to walk you home?"

He rolls his eyes at that and you bump into him again with your bag. He growls, you do it again. He shoves you back and you shove him harder, hand making contact with his nearest shoulder and pushing him almost into the hedge lining the pavement just before one of the many alleys you pass down on the shortcut to his house.

"What the fuck is even your problem?" He asks, his voice getting louder than it usually is at this time of night as you enter the alleyway and goddamn, he used to have some fucking courtesy for the hypothetical babies that are sleeping. You voice this thought to him and he growls, and god help you, you can't help the douchey smirk that crawls up onto your face every time you hear that little sound.

You're prepared for the growls and the witty retorts, but you weren't prepared for the punch he throws at you, and he gets you right in the cheekbone - just below the shades, thank god. You go to hit him back but he grabs your arm and spins you both, pinning you up against the wall of the alleyway, dimly lit by a streetlamp about 10ft away. He's got a hand fisted up in your shirt and the other gripping one of your arms and fucking hell he's baring his teeth at you like the little lion cub he is.

Little invasive lion cub, all up in your personal space. He's pressed flush to you from the chest down, glaring up at you and challenging you to do something about it.

You almost do a very, very stupid thing. You have several stupid things in your head screaming at you to do ~~him~~ them but you opt for the least stupid option and just pick him up, turning and lifting him over your shoulder. He's yelling at you for a good thirty seconds before realising you're not going to put him down. You can taste a little bit of blood but you're alright, probably the inside of your cheek hitting your teeth.

You've made it to the other end of the alleyway - just outside his house - when you stop walking.

"You gonna behave if I put you down?"

"Depends if you're going to place me on the floor or have me euthanised. Only one of them will definitely make me behave."

You grin and put him on the floor, dodging when he goes to hit you again.

"Oh no Vantas, Striders never get struck twice."

He actually smiles at that, but that's not any kind of friendly smile - that's the smile he reserves for you when you've been especially aggravating, "Challenge accepted. See you tomorrow, asshole. Enjoy your bruise."

"Bruise?" You ask, but he's already gone indoors and shut the door. You watch the house for a moment before walking on towards your own, pulling out your phone to look at your face and oh my god you're definitely going to bruise. Karkat Vantas has damaged your face. Dirk is never going to let you live this down.

At night, under covers and in one of your own little personal prayers of shame, you pretend it's not weird to get off to the idea of you and your best hatefriend beating the shit out of eachother in a darkened alleyway. You cut it all down to hormones and Vantas' enticingly firm grasp and leave it at that.

Still, you can't help but wonder what he'd have done if you hadn't picked him up.

By morning you've cast aside all thoughts from the night before and you're ready for... Saturday. It's Saturday.

It's _Saturday_.

You sit up a little in bed, rubbing a hand over your eyes and picking up your phone to confirm that thought. 9:34am. Saturday. You never see Karkat at the weekends unless Egbert's planned something and yet... Karkat had specifically said "see you tomorrow"?

You shake your head, locking your phone and putting it back under your pillow as you lay down and go back to sleep. you can spare a few more hours, it's not like you have anywhere to go today. Karkat obviously forgot what day it was - you'll get a message from him in the afternoon about it, probably - or more likely one from John saying Karkat's been complaining about fucking up a threat he made yesterday by forgetting what fucking day it was. It will be hilarious, many laughs will be had. You curl back up under your warm duvet and close your eyes, trying to remember what position you'd woken up in so you could pretend you never even woke up.

You don't remember.

You fall back to sleep anyway.

When you wake up again, it's several hours later to knocking on your bedroom door. Whoever it is, they seem to really like knocking as a method of getting your attention. Knocking repeatedly. Without actually saying anything. It's the most annoying thing you've ever heard.

"Nevermore." You mutter to yourself, rolling over to face the offending intruder and raising your voice to ask, "Who the fuck is it?"

A break in the knocking, "Who the fuck do you think, asshole? Get out of bed."

You sit up, tiredness making you feel dizzy and causing you to instantly regret at least six of your life choices, "Karkat?"

"No it's the _other_ douchecanoe that lives across the street from you and said he'd see you today. How stupid do you have to be? Of _course_ it's fucking Karkat now get your ass out of bed and get changed, we're going to John's."

Confused, you drag yourself out of bed and into the first outfit you see that doesn't smell like someone died in it. Due to that elimination you don't have many clothes to choose from. It's hard being a teenage boy and growing up, it's hard and nobody understands.

You're pulling on your only pair of slip-on shoes when you hear a loud, exaggerated sigh from the other side of the door.

"Shut the fuck up Vantas. God, I'm making myself pretty for you and this is the treatment I get?"

The retort is almost immediate, "Well fuck if I'd known you were going to try and make yourself attractive I'd have gone to get a coffee, maybe a book and a chair. Should I just meet you at Egberts, say, next week?"

You stand up, grabbing your shades from your bedside table and opening your bedroom door to the short, tanned-skinned ball of fury behind it. He looks up at you, putting on his little visage of anger to hide his evident shock at meeting your eyes instead of the usual black lenses. Everyone's always shocked. They're usually also fucking terrified, though, so you've got to respect him for both not freaking out each time and not using your little defect against you in any argument you've ever had with him.

"So are we leaving or you got some more to say to me first?" You ask, tucking your shades into the neckline of your tshirt. You're going to drag on this game for a while, see if he breaks and questions you before you get to John's.

"Nice bruise." He makes a sweeping, sideways gesture with his arm towards the stairs, "Ladies first."

You pretend to fan yourself and force your accent thicker and up a few pitches, "Why thank you, kind sir. Would you be so kind as to escort the lady down the stairs? She's frightfully clumsy."

You offer your arm out as daintily as you can and much to your surprise and joy, he actually loops his arm around your own and escorts you down the stairs. He's cursing you under his breath but he's playing along and glancing over at your shades like maybe you're too distracted and he could just-

You catch his wrist just as you reach the bottom of the stairs.

"Nu-uh. Not happening." You say, turning him to face you, holding his wrist up between you, so close to your aviators and yet so far, "Sorry Kitkat gonna need these outside."

When he replies he tries to make himself bigger, bless him "It's exactly the same brightness out there as it is in here, why do you need them so much more outside, cooldouche?"

"Because he's an egotistical asshole with a penchant for making a show out of everything he does!" Your brother calls from the kitchen, before poking his head round the door frame, "Nice bruise bro. Didn't quite believe him."

You roll your eyes, letting go of Karkat's hand and walking to the door "Thankyou for your input, Dirkyboy. Go back to your housewife duties, I expect dinner on the table when I get back."

"Well then either you're planning on beating yourself home to cook it, or you're offering to buy us takeout."

You wave in dismissal, opening the door and ushering Karkat out, "Yeah whatever I'll get chinese on the way back or something."

You walk out and shut the door, heaving a sigh as you start the walk to John's house. Karkat walks beside you, casting you quick, impatient glances every now and then. You know you're walking slower than usual, so you slow down even more until, by the end of your road, you're walking slower than any human has the right to and Karkat's actually grabbed hold of your arm to pull you forwards.

"Come _on_ , asshole! This shit wasn't funny the first time it's _definitely_ not funny the fifty-first!"

You stop completely, standing still as he pulls at your arm. You put your shades back on and stop responding to him, pretending to tune him out while listening to every word he says. He growls at you, you do nothing. He threatens to punch you again, you do nothing.

He walks off without you, you duck down a side road and continue on your way to John's house unseen but parallel with Karkat. You know you'll be walking faster, and you make it to the Egbert household in record time and knock on the door.

John answers, all smiles and inevitable hugs as he greets you, looking around to see you're the only one out there.

"Where's Karkat?"

You shrug, stepping past John into the house, "Stuck in traffic maybe I dunno, he said he'd be here."

"Oh well... It's just movies today, but my dad's been baking so there's plenty to eat!"

"Sounds awesome man."

By the time you settle down on the couch - on the end nearest the kitchen - you hear a distinctively aggressive knock at the door. You compose yourself as John goes to answer it, keeping your eyes on the television as you listen to the conversation.

"Hey Karkat!"

"Hi John, I'm really sorry I tried to get Strider to come but-" he stops as he steps through the door, seeing you sat comfortably on the three-seater, "What. The fuck."

You wave, "Hey Vantasshole glad you could make it."

He looks really confused. It's awesome. "How the fuck did you-?"

"I walked here, dumbass. Now quit your nonsensical whining and sit the fuck down, I was told this was movie day not listen-to-Karkat-bitching day."

John pouts at your little display of hateful affection, "Guys come on, we're here to have fun not to act like dicks to eachother!"

He sits down - on the other side of the couch, much to your dismay. You were hoping to fuck with him a little more while Egbert was engrossed in his shitty movies. You guess not all your plans can come to fruition, and you've already one-upped him pretty good today anyway.

You sit through two films before you start to get bored and fidgety. Karkat's hogging the sweets on the other side of the couch and John keeps bouncing the cushions every time something he likes happens on-screen, which is alot. You're debating whether to escape to the kitchen or the bathroom, but John stands up, excusing himself to the latter location, and you cast Karkat your most predatory glance.

You shift over, taking John's space and a good few inches of Karkat's space, leaning over him for the sweets he's been piling up on the end table.

"Honestly Vantas bit rude of you to leave these all the way over here."

He pushes your arm outwards just as you reach one of the packets, you look at him and wow he is right up in your face. Huh. You feel his breath on your face as he speaks, "Maybe you should fucking ask nicely for them then, Strider?"

"I don't _do_ nice." You say evenly, making a point of giving him a once over before whispering, "Good job you're such a nasty piece of work."

His eyes widen and he backs off a little, letting you have your arm back and allowing you to reach over for the sweets just as John comes back down the stairs. You lean back, still in the middle of the couch. "Cheers Kitkat."

"Dave you moved!" John complains loudly, scrunching his face up on one side and putting his hands on his hips. You almost laugh.

"Vantas was hoggin' all the candy, had to fend for myself." You shrug, patting the seat next to you and pointing at the screen. You don't even know what film this is anymore but John seems excited by the scene it's at, plopping down next to you and shoving your shoulder. Shoving you, conveniently enough, further towards Karkat.

Four terrible films and like a million cupcakes from the kitchen later and you're ready to go home. John gives you more baked goods to take with you - _"Please, Dave, take them before they take me"_ \- and makes you promise to be online later. Karkat joins you on the journey back, scuffing his vans on the floor and breathing so quietly you might think he'd died back at John's.

The night is a little cold but you don't mind; you grew up in a very hot city so the breeze is not unwelcome. You're still not used to being able to see your breath in the evenings, though, and Karkat always looks at you weirdly when you breathe out particularly hard and watch the cloud you create spiral up into the air.

"What the fuck was that about earlier?"

You blink, looking across to see Karkat staring dead ahead, mouth drawn into a line and eyes far too focused to not care about how you answer this question.

You scoff, "Which thing? I did alot earlier."

He closes his eyes, tilting his head up as if praying for patience. You know his prayer will go unanswered. Maybe he'll punch you again and wow you should not be getting so hopeful about that, scratch that thought and all related thoughts.

"Oh, fuck me you know what I'm on about."

You can't stop yourself, "Fuck you? Karkat we're in the middle of a public street."

"This is the shit I'm talking about!" He yells, and okay you weren't expecting it to piss him off _that_ much, "You're taking your whole hate-dating thing a little too far, dont you think?!"

He is, of course, referring to how you introduce him to people, how you answer when people ask why you hang around with him if he's such a dick, and generally how you act around him: "We're hate-dating, he's an asshole but his is mine so I don't really care" - is it cruelty or flirting? Nobody knows!

You didn't realise it was getting to him this much, though, youre kind of worried...

On the outside, however, you manage to just look pissed off.

"Karkat calm the fuck down and explain what's up."

He growls again, and you realise you've both stopped walking. You don't know when you stopped but you are definitely not moving right now. You can see the anger in his eyes, but there's something else there; worry, maybe? You don't know, you've never been good at reading people. That's Rose's thing, not yours. You take off your shades to even the playing field a little.

He's all wound up and you're expecting a tsunami, but all you get is a rainfall. "You're infuriating."

"I know."

He opens his eyes, looking up at you and meeting your own bright red irises. He moves faster than you're used to him moving, grabbing you by the front of your shirt and almost-kissing you. It's only almost because of how viscious he is about it: one hand pulling at the back of your hair, the kiss itself all teeth and growls on his part while you try and push back against him. You were right. It really does feel good when he's pressed up against you, but before you can reciprocate the pressure any more he's pulled away, shoving you backwards and walking off in the direction of your houses.

You pause for a moment before catching up with him, but only because you've realised you can't dodge this situation for much longer. He's just about to turn down your street...

"Karkat you're going the wrong way." You call out, deciding to completely ignore what just happened until you can actually make sense of why that little ball of misery decided to ragekiss you.

He turns around, confused, "What?"

"I promised Dirk food, c'mon."

He sighs as loudly as possible, but seems to be in the same mindset as you because he accompanies you to the Chinese with nothing but the usual hate-fuelled banter. you get enough food for the three of you - Karkat says nothing, and even if he did you'd have just told him to shut up and wait outside - and head back to your house.

When you get back home, you leave Karkat to close the door and throw your brother's bag of food at him, pretending not to notice when he sits up startled from his place on the couch.

Your brother's watching that bullshit show about a fake military training course in Japan - the one with all the stupid ass perfect agility courses and the fairly attractive General. You settle down to watch it too, vaguely aware of Karkat sat next to you. You love this show completely unironically. In fact, you love _most_ things completely unironically, but it's so much easier to say "it's ironic" than it is to explain to someone exactly why the thing you're doing/listening to/watching is perfect.

You can never explain the things you love or why you love them, so you just grind it all down to irony and make it your image. Make it something easier to explain.

You realise you've probably been glancing at Karkat a bit too much when your brother makes a point of leaving the room as loudly as possible. You roll your still-uncovered eyes at him and he lifts his shades and winks. You can't be bothered to retaliate.

You wait until he's definitely gone before leaning back on the couch and spreading your arms, staring straight at the television as you speak.

"So are we gonna talk about that, or?"

He doesn't miss a beat, "What's there to talk about?"

"Oh y'know," You draw out, shrugging against the couch cushions, "Just the fact you've spent all this time pretending you hate me to hide the fact you're hankering for my dick."

"I do hate you. You're insufferable, arrogant, selfish and stupid."

"Then why'd you kiss me?"

He's like lightning, you swear. One minute he's sat next to you and the next he's in your lap, face inches from yours and eyes burning holes in your face as he seems to struggle to take you all in. Your arms are still spread out across the back of the couch, you dare not move them for fear of scaring him away.

"Because no matter how much I hate every last part of you..." he trails off, his eyes darting around your face again, "and I want nothing more than to punch your fucking lights out," he meets your eyes again, "I can't fucking stop the thoughts that go through my head when I see you."

You try and keep your face calm, trying not to react to your heart pounding in your chest, "Oh?"

"Like now, you're pretending not to notice me here. You're so fucking pretentious and I would do literally _anything_ to knock that smirk off your face..."

"Is that why you punched me?"

"No asshole, I punched you because you deserved it."

"Then why'd you kiss me?"

"Because you deserved it."

You raise an eyebrow, but he's staring at you evenly, waiting for you to get it. You think back to that kiss, how it felt more like an attack than a romantic gesture. He was trying to beat you, even in something meant to be so sweet... It was a battle, it was a challenge.

You'd win the next round.

You smirk, dropping your eyelids a little and meeting his gaze. He's wearing almost exactly the same expression, but with that little, violent smile he reserves for you when you've been particularly annoying.

That's yours, and you're going to take it from him.

You're going to take it, and he's going to like it.

You push off from the couch as you pull him in by the collar of his shirt, landing his back on the carpeted floor of the lounge. He barely flinches at the contact, grabbing your arms and trying to flip your positions, but you've got him pinned. You bite his lips, his neck, his jaw; everything you can reach, determined to make a mark on him. You can feel the folds of his shirt against your forearms and no, that's got to change. But not here.

You push up from the floor, pulling him with you by his shirt, extending up to your full height and pulling away from him, bringing out that little growl as you walk backwards away from him, drawing him out of the lounge and towards your stairs. The animalistic look in his eyes makes your heart stop from terror and pure, unadulterated arousal. He could hurt you, easily. He could tear you apart; short or not the guy's got muscle under there. You have to use it against him. You have to beat him up the stairs.

You turn and run, hearing him crashing up after you as you slam your bedroom door shut and lean against it. You don't know or care where your brother is, he can listen in if he really fucking wants to. Karkat slams into your door with what you can only assume is all his weight and you laugh; your entire body moves as his weight meets the wood and you almost lose your footing.

"Tis some visitor!" You call out, "Tapping at my chamber door! Only this and nothing more!"

He slams into it again, "Fuck you, you _nerd_ open this fucking door and face me like a man!"

"Sir or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore!" You call, he growls again, banging on the door, "But the fact is I was napping and so gently you came rapping, and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door!" he calls you a douche, slams into the door again, you're having to shout over his swearing, "That I scarce was sure I heard you!"

You _open wide the door_ , letting Karkat fly through just as he was about to slam his body into the wood once more. You lean out of the door into the now-empty hallway.

"Hm. Darkness there, and nothing more..."

You're grabbed by the back of your shirt and spun, slammed into the door on the inside, the action closing it so violently it shakes the wall as he growls, pushing up against you and ravaging your lips. You kiss him back just as fiercely, pushing him backwards and trying to navigate the living mess that is your bedroom. You're about to push him backwards in the direction of your bed when he grabs a handful of your shirt and _spins_ , throwing you against the piece of furniture so fast you barely have time to bounce before he's on you again, all teeth and lips and nails.

The streetlight is filtered in through your window and partway open curtains, casting shadows over his face as you glance at him. Hi eyebrows are drawn as he kisses you, as if hes really having to concentrate on it. You'd never call this asshole pretty, he's all odd angles and big eyes, but goddamn you've never wanted anyone more in your life. He breaks from your lips to bite your neck again - an action he seems to prefer to actually kissing you - and you take the opportunity to antagonise him further.

"O, hateful raven..." You start up, and you feel his grip on your arms tighten, "Long I paused, wondering, doubting, fearing, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before, and yet here you are, but a so short bootycall at my chamber door."

He pulls back and meets your gaze with fiery eyes, seemingly burning right through your own, "Fuck you."

"You're about to." You say, and buck your hips up to jolt his own. His forehead collides with your shoulder as you do it again and the rant he was preparing is lost in his moans. God, he's loud.

You wish you gave a shit.

His shirt's got to go, that's all you care about right now. Sitting up as best you can, you pull his overshirt off him backwards, letting him get his arms out before they find your hair again. You're not done, he's still wearing that tshirt but damn, you can't bring yourself to stop kissing him like this. He's such an asshole, he knows you want his shirt off, he _knows_ goddamnit and you can feel him smirking against your lips just before he bites the bottom one again, pulling so you have to sit further up and-

He's pulling your shirt off instead, the cheeky son of a bitch.

You shouldn't say that really, Mrs Vantas is a wonderful human being, but the point still stands stop thinking about Karkat's mother while you're about five seconds from getting him naked you fucking creep who _does_ that?

"Problem?" He asks, hands already on your bare ribs and pulling your shirt up with ease - you've never been bothered about your body, you don't know why he's being so slow about it.

"Only the fact you're still wearing clothes, bulgemunch."

"Oh and where'd you find _that_ insult, Strider? The same charity shop you found those sunglasses?"

"Fuck you charity shops are awesome."

He kisses you again instead of admitting he was wrong, and this time you can feel his dick when he rolls his hips down and god _damn_ that boy's been hiding that thing for way too long. You have to fix that. Poor thing's probably never even seen the light of day. Or, you know, the artificial light of suburban nighttime. Either or.

You let him take off your shirt before he lets you take off his, and pretty much immediately after you've wrestled his black tshirt over his mess of dark hair you push him backwards so he's the one laying down, pressing your entire now-naked chest against his and pinning him to the bed. He growls, and instead of making you smile this time the noise goes straight to your dick and makes you want to rip his pants off in doubletime.

He's already undoing your belt, and you've got to admire his bravery with that one - your jeans are goddamn tight and therefore full of twice the mystery as his own baggy ones - but then he slides his hand in there and _shit_ that feels better than you thought it would. He's glaring at you as he tightens his grip just enough that it's riding the fine line between pain and _fuck yes_ and you drop your mouth to his neck, sucking and biting as you wish with all your might that you didn't need your hands to keep yourself propped up.

Karkat Vantas has his hand on your dick and this is, by far, the best experience you've had in your life so far. Way better than Disney World, blows every Christmas you've ever had right out of the water... You'd take this over presents and red chimney assholes any day.

You lower one arm to the elbow, kissing the fuck out of those rough lips as you try and maneuver yourself to get a free arm, undoing Karkat's jeans and ignoring his warning growls as you reach in, palming him through his boxers. His pathetic growl switches mid-way through into this little pining whine and you laugh - you can't help it, you just laugh, and he's hitting you and damnit he's taken his hand out of your jeans and you have to roll to the side because "Holy _shit_ what the fuck was that noise?"

He looks indignant - as indignant as one can look when flushed and shirtless in his friend's bed with his jeans undone and a raging boner - "Fuck you, you asshole, you caught me by surprise!"

"I took you by surprise?" You laugh, not even bothering to sit up and look at him, "Are you fucking serious _you had your hand on my dick_ and me reciprocating startled you? Shall I fetch some water, are you feeling faint?"

He lets out a low growl and then he's on you again, straddling your hips and pushing down as he practically tries to bite the laughs out of your mouth. You push the waistline of his jeans down. He lets you. His boxers go with you hands, _whoops_ , and he does nothing to stop them exposing his skin to the warm air of your room.

This time when you get your hand around him he just _moans_ , all loud and much smoother than his speaking voice. You decide this is how he should communicate from now on. No more speaking, only moans. They're _so_ much more entertaining to listen to.

You don't complain when he starts pulling your jeans down, when he sits back and has to shuffle to pull the tight material off, when you have to help out a little because these jeans are the same jeans you've been wearing for about a year now and you probably need ones that don't cut off your circulation.

You _definitely_ don't complain when he shoves you back down, grinding his hips against yours and kissing you until you're so overstimulated you worry you might come there and then if you just think about it a little too hard. You wrap your hand around his dick but then instantly regret it, losing that contact you had between you. You take your hand away, bucking your hips against him again.

You try and breathe out his name, failing miserably the first time before managing a strained "Karkat," He stops, looking down at you with eyes so wide and so blown you'd think they should glow in the dark. He looks barely human like this, "You gonna fuck me or piss about all night?"

He seems to hesitate, and you have to admit you don't even know what you're doing right now but you've never wanted anyone this much and you don't entirely trust yourself to fuck him without fucking _up_...

You know for a fact that if you reach behind you and open that drawer - You strain your arm, Karkat watching you wide-eyed in the dark - there. Your fingers close around a small bottle you keep in there for... uh... scientific research. Into the nature of ~~prostates~~ _nerves_ and how they react to everyday ~~sex toys~~ _objects_.

You hand it to him and he shakes his head, "Not sure why I'm bothering, you're a big enough asshole without making you any bigger."

You have to admit that one was alright, "Karkat baby you can't help but make me bigger."

"Shut the fuck up and lay down, let me degrade myself to fingering you in peace."

You do, and you bite back every shudder and moan as his cold fingers enter you: probing, stretching, weird and alien and a little uncomfortable but you know you'll adjust. His dick thankfully isn't any bigger than anything else you may have shoved up there for any scientific purposes. You push his hand away after a good few minutes of him stretching you and biting your neck simultaneously, pulling him back to your face with the back of his hair and forcing him to press his body back up against you.

You nod and that's all he needs to start pressing into you, smirking at every wince of pain, telling you to both _man up_ and also to _take it like the woman you are_ within the space of about thirty seconds. You're about to tell him to make up his fucking mind but then you don't care any more because he's in and he's got his hand back around your dick and he hasn't even waited for your approval before thrusting into you, squeezing and rubbing and pressing you in more ways than you could ever have thought to touch, biting and nipping and sucking at every blank piece of skin he can reach as he brings out your own moans. You can't help it. You're thinking about every movement he makes against you, every bite; every touch sets your skin on fire and threatens to tear you apart. He's not gentle and you think that's what you love most about this whole thing - he knows you're not made of glass and he's damn well not going to treat you like you are. You retaliate by snapping your hips violently against his at random intervals, making him cry out pretty much every time, and though he doesn't seem bothered about finding that magic cluster of nerves inside of you you swear he brushes it a couple of times and you have to bite back some particularly loud and unbecoming noises before you wake the neighbours.

What sets you off, though, is when you open your eyes at the same time he does, his deep brown eyes meeting your fiery red ones in a connection you only break to arch backwards against your clenching stomach muscles and choke out what you think was meant to be his name. He presses into you, shuddering against your chest as he loses himself. You know what he's saying is your name and if you hadn't come already that would have set you off for sure.

You collapse together in a tangle of sheets and sweaty flesh. You don't even care. You don't care about anything except the perfect fact Karkat's not trying to cuddle you. You don't think you could have taken that seriously. He's laid next to you on your outstretched arm - you forget where it was before, probably slung around him - blinking up at the ceiling like he doesn't know what happened.

You spend about five full minutes laying there and breathing, and you find you don't regret a single second of what just happened, whatever it _was_ that just happened.

"Sunday tomorrow, right?" He asks, and it's so casual you want to laugh, but you just respond with a _yeah_ \- he rubs his eyes, "Shit I'd better go, they're dragging me to church in the morning. Stupid fucking New Jersey parents and their stupid fucking religion."

You laugh weakly, "Man I don't think people from New Jersey are the only people that attend church on Sundays..."

"Yeah but fuck them anyway. Seriously."

"That sounds exhausting. Maybe after church tomorrow."

He reaches over to bat you with a free hand, but you catch it and throw it back to him. You can see him smiling, he's not hiding it very well. You stretch out the arm that isn't currently under Karkat's shoulders and click your joints in it.

You wait a full thirty seconds before announcing, "Yeah sure Karkat I'll be free after you're done apologising to god for everything that just happened thanks for asking see you tomorrow afternoon!"

"Fuck you I won't be apologising for shit."

You grin at him, "Oh _really_? Why not, Kitkat, scared your parents'll hear you while you cry in the confession closet?"

He scrunches up his face, glancing around to see where his clothes have gone, "My sins are my own, jackass, I'm not letting anyone's _god_ touch them with a ten foot cattleprod."

"Cute. Seriously though you busy after? My only better plans would be a date with a pneumatic drill but I think Dirk'll be using it tomorrow."

"Hmm," He sits up, reaching around to grab his clothes and pull them on, "I'll text you or something, I might have found a high building to jump off instead."

You pull on your boxers, wiping your stomach with your duvet and pulling on a shirt you found down the side of your bed. This is as much as you plan on dressing. "Awesome. If you do get someone to film it for me?"

You don't bring up the fact he's putting on your hoodie over his shirt, even though he turns around and looks at you like he's daring you to challenge him, "Will do. I'll have it labelled _wankbank for Strider_ and tell them to set it on fire before they hand you it."

You grin and stand up, walking him all the way down the stairs to your front door. He walks close to you, you don't mind. You pause at the door, opening it into the cold night air. You don't know what time it is but you know it's late - the streetlights are on and nobody is out walking. It's silent.

You turn to him, making a point of looking down, "You'd better look after that hoodie."

"I'm going to set it on fire when I get home."

"Alright sure you are. Later, shitbag."

"See you tomorrow, you insufferable prick."

You keep eye contact with him for a few seconds before leaning down and kissing him, smirking as you feel him pressing back. The cold air is blasting one side of your face but you don't really give even half a shit.

When you pull away, he looks even angrier than he did before.

He glares at you, you _feel_ it, "I hate you so fucking much."

"The feeling's mutual dude now get the fuck out of my house."

You make a point of waving at him as he walks away, and he turns to flip you off with both hands before jogging over the road to his own house. You close the door, turning around and coming face to face with your brother.

"If he's coming over again tomorrow try and keep the fucking noise down."

You scoff, walking into the kitchen, "Whatever Dirkyboy I've heard you and that English kid going at it like angry hamsters, I think you can suffer through your little bro's loud hatesex for another day."

You get out a glass and pour yourself some of the pure apple juice you managed to get in the fridge. Dirk ignores everything you just said and goes to look in the cupboards. You don't know why he bothers checking, you never have any food in there: one cupboard is full entirely of punching mats and another is where you keep all the plastic bags you get from the rare occasions you go shopping.

"Pizza?" Dirk asks, and that's probably the second best thing you've heard all evening.

**Author's Note:**

> 10 points to your Hogwarts house if you noticed all the lame as fuck references in this.
> 
> I wrote this in two days.  
> I can't be stopped, I'm currently writing an ongoing multichapter (R&R), the sequel to ATLIW(POTR), as well as two unreleased LONG AS SHIT oneshots (like jesus, one of them might need to get cut up into pieces just so people can save their place for later) and a smaller oneshot that may or may not develop further and my mind came up with YET ANOTHER HS PLOT IDEA earlier today.
> 
> Can you tell I haven't found a full time job, yet ??
> 
> I'm singlehandedly going to get Davekat to the top Homestuck ship at this rate.
> 
> Watch out, JohnDave.
> 
> xoMegan.
> 
> _PS: fun fact "rageclock me in the douchesmirk plz" is a direct quote from Dave that prompted this fic._


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